


at my worst, I worry you’ll realize you deserve better.  at my best, I worry you won’t

by thecanary



Series: A Softer DeadPoetsSociety [2]
Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Bonding, but its not really written as such so dw if u dont ship it, can b read romantically or lead up to romance if u want, friendship cheers, projection at quarter to eleven pm on a school night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 03:45:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16611293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecanary/pseuds/thecanary
Summary: (i've never been better)charlie yoyo-ing around how he feels, because why would meeks want to spend time with him of all people. low self esteem n all that





	at my worst, I worry you’ll realize you deserve better.  at my best, I worry you won’t

"Charlie, you know, I don't think you're really fair on yourself."

Charlie looked at Meeks sceptically.

"You think?"  
"Yeah. Talking to Todd today, you made it sound like you were only just decent at English. Charles Dalton, we both know you're better than that."  
"I'm not about to start bragging."  
"Except about me, apparently."  
"Well of course. You're you."

Meeks laughed. Charlie was the first to brag about someone else's achievements, someone else's intelligence, and the last to brag about his own. That was the standard he operated on, and it was what everyone was used to. Charlie wasn't a smart person, not a charming one either, his only significance as he saw it was how willing he was to just go for it, go all in on a joke or a prank, and grab some attention while he was at it.

Charlie grinned. Meeks was humble, but not to the point of pretence; Meeks was never afraid to say he was good at something, and he'd crack a joke quick as anything, but only around his friends. He was everything Charlie wasn't and so much more.

That's why the two of them worked, balancing each other out, joke for joke, point for point. Encouraging and discouraging each other when the time came to it, they were dynamite when they needed to be. It was probably for the best that they weren't roommates.

The day of the soccer game, of crying out poetry and putting all your power into one kick of the ball, that's when Charlie found himself glowing with self confidence. To indeed be a god, right; well that's how he felt, above it all and joyous about it. His voice cried out loud when he read off the paper, certain that this was what the universe wanted, for him to see himself above it all, to see himself as someone who could change things.

In study hall that night, they shared a table, Meeks doing homework while Charlie sat beside him, etching out poetry and annotations half heartedly - he didn't care for it. He grinned though, his smile didn't fall from his face as he watched Meeks do work, putting in effort that he couldn't be bothered to muster.

"What's got you so happy?" Meeks asked, taking the bait.  
"I'm worried."  
"Not something I thought you'd be smiling about."  
"Well, it's a good kind of worry."

Meeks laughed at that. Of course he couldn't appreciate the concept of worry ever being a good thing, a worry where either way the coin fell, something good would come out of it.

"I'm not kidding," Charlie said.  
"Alright, what's worrying you?"  
"It's about you."

A pause. They hadn't discussed each other, not in terms of what or who they were, just, Meeks and Charlie, more than friends but best friends and something else all at the same time. The common room was rowdy enough - filled with people laughing and talking and doing homework and not doing homework, so the duo could speak freely enough.

"Listen, Meeks," Charlie continued. "You're brilliant, and you're so smart but at the same time, you're so dumb. Like, for all you're worth, I'm worried that you'll never find someone better than me. And that's good either way."

Meeks didn't laugh this time, just tilted his head and smiled.

"Really?"  
"Well if you find someone better, that's great for you and all that. But I'm worried you won't, which is great for me. Both because you stick with me, and no one out there is better. No way to lose."  
With a shake of his head, Meeks replied. "That's, an interesting line of thinking," he said.

It was two sides of a coin though. It always is.

After his phone call from God, Charlie was seen differently by people at school. Sure, some people gained respect for him, but Meeks, Meeks didn't think the joke was worth it. Not worth the limping and trouble and risk that Charlie didn't just put himself in, but the rest of the dead poets too. The society they'd made for themselves out of an old book and a cave was at risk, because of a joke that Charlie hadn't thought through enough.

Times like that, when Meeks spent more time with Pitts improving their radio, less time with Charlie, less time putting up with his bullshit, those were times when Charlie started to think a little differently. Doing homework at different tables, or the same table, but they weren't together emotionally, weren't operating as a duo of wit and intrigue - Meeks remaining silent, conservative laughs and jokes while trying to finish work, and Charlie not wanting to push it, not wanting to taunt Meeks when Meeks was the better one. Times like that, Charlie worried, just as much.

"Penny for your thoughts?' Meeks mused. There was no meeting that night, too risky.  
"Generous sum," Charlie replied with a scoff. "Sorry to be the one to tell you, but you're being ripped off."  
"In a mood?"  
"Bad one."

Charlie continued with the line of homework he was doing, balancing reactions for chemistry, mindless enough but somehow still enough of a challenge for him to get it wrong occasionally.

"The thing is," he continued. "You can do, so much better. And you will. Better friends better people, better everything; but after all that, what am I gonna be?"

Charlie didn't appreciate what he'd said. It was stupid and manipulative and just begging for Meeks to tell him that he wasn't awful - but sometimes being told that was what he needed, and he couldn't exactly ask for it.

"You're Charlie. Charles Dalton, inimitable. C'mon, even if I could find someone better than you, why would I bother? I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything."  
"You really are a something else, aren't you."  
"Shh, the others might catch on."  
"As if they don't already know."

And like that, they fell back into rhythm, Charlie never better never worse but bouncing around the whole concept of the thing.


End file.
